The Brothers of Lórien
by Lovely Evenstar
Summary: Three sisters set out to win the hearts of Lorien’s Marchwarden and his two brothers. When the eldest of the brothers secretly begins to help Vanyamorë to win his brother’s heart, she finds she is falling head over heels-- for the wrong Elf!
1. Chapter 1

:The Brothers of Lórien:

_Written by the authors of 'the Elleth and the Prince'. Three sisters set out to win the hearts of Lorien's Marchwarden and his two brothers. As second oldest, Vanyamorë is destined to ensnare the second eldest brother. When the eldest of the brothers secretly begins to help her to win his brother's heart, she finds she is falling head over heels-- for the wrong Elf! AU_

Chapter 1

X

It was autumn. The trees sizzled with seasonal colours, the red leaves tipped gold and amber. The sky was ever clear, blue and endless as the roving sea. More birds than usual flew overhead, preparing to fly to warmer places during the cold winter.

It was a wonderful time of year. Vanyamorë sat backed against a tree, her sleeveless white gown whirling about her in the whiffs of breeze. How wonderful it was to wander free and out of doors! She'd been stuck in the kitchens for days, helping the elder ones prepare for the Autumn Equinox Feast.

The breeze blew again, harder than the before, and under the strain of wind, many ginger-coloured leaves fell down upon her, each scattering off into its own dance. With a laugh that bespoke peacefulness and contended joy, she rose swiftly and stood to face the wind, eyes closed, arms outspread, dark hair streaming behind her in the blustery weather.

Could life be any more perfect? She supposed not. Her parents were well, her friends were many, and the nights of celebration would begin that very evening. She was young and free and had eternity to experience. "My heart sings," she said sincerely, opening her eyes as the winds died down.

Even her parents being away for so long could not dampen her spirits. She missed them, of course. They had been away to Mirkwood since the winter before last. It was her Naneth's homeplace. Even so, utter joy swelled in her breast. What were a few years to an Immortal? Or even ten, or a hundred?

But it was time to return to Imladris. She had her own preparations to complete before the feasting began.

X

Míriel was in a foul mood. "How dare she?" the elleth shrieked, careless of anyone who might be passing by her quarters. "What a foul toad! What an abominable _witch_!" With a shrill cry of disgust, she flung a porcelain vase to the wall, sending glass shattering and water soaking into the fine carpet of her sleeping chamber.

The enraged elleth ignored the pitiful roses that had been crushed with the force of her throw. She dramatically hurled herself onto the large, four-poster bed, weeping large tears into the unmade sheets. "It's not fair!" she gasped through her sobs, "It is so unfair!"

A knock came at her door.

"Go away!" she croaked, burying her face into the silken coverlet. "Leave me alone!"

"Míriel, darling, it's me. What's the matter, dearest? Are you alright?"

"I said, go away!" Nothing could ease her suffering. Not even her sympathetic sister.

The door creaked open, and unsure footsteps carried over the floor. "Míriel, whatever is the matter?" Concern was evident in the voice of the elder one. "Why have you broken Naneth's vase?"

"Oh Vanya," Míriel whined, lifting her head, "I hate Tindómë! I hate her!"

"Oh dear," Vanyamorë stared in shock at her younger sister. "Whatever could have happened to make you hate your closest friend?"

"She is NOT my friend," Míriel stated. She sat up, her tears forgotten. Her tantrums were usually like this, quick and terrible. "You see, it is like this," she cleared her throat. "You know that Túron is my greatest love, do you not?"

Vanyamorë thought. She did not know Míriel had a 'greatest' love. She had thought all Míriel's loves were of equal value to her. But this Túron? It was a new name, one she could not put a face on. "I'm sorry, Míriel, I don't remember Túron; who was he again?"

"He was— _is _my greatest love. Everyone knows it. Tindómë knew it too. Yet today she has revealed to me that she intends to court him before the year is done." Míriel's face contorted into a hideous countenance. "She will try to steal his heart away from me!" Tears formed in her eyes. "I hate her!"

"Oh, my." Vanyamorë sat gingerly on the side of the bed. She touched a hand to her sister's shoulder. Why did this have to happen now, when everything had been going so wonderfully? "Míriel, dear, have you spoken of your love of Túron to Timdome?"

Míriel sniffed. "Nay, I have not."

"Then perhaps she does not understand the full content of your devotion to him."

"Or his devotion to me!" said Míriel defensively, eyes meeting her sister's.

"Of course," Vanyamorë said, relieved to see the darkness dissipating from Míriel's blue eyes. "Mayhaps if you were to explain…"

Míriel thought of this. "Perhaps," she said slowly. "Perhaps I will speak of it with her." She sighed, frowning. "It is not like she couldn't already tell. I love Túron, and it is plain for everyone to see."

Vanyamorë stroked the golden hair of the younger one. "All will be well, Míriel." Then she brightened. "Oh, I have news for you! That's what I had come to tell you, but I forgot when I heard you weeping."

"What news?" demanded her sister, straightening again.

"Two things," said Vanyamorë, her eyes alight with excitement. "First this: the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel will be joining us for the Feast—this very night!"

"The Lord and Lady of Lothlorien?" Míriel was astonished. "But how? How could they be here tonight?"

"Elrond extended an invitation with that group of scouts that left in the summer, and it was accepted! Undómiel says it is perfect, for they may join us for the Autumn Festivities, and then still be here for Lord Elladan's and Lord Elrohir's birthday."

"This is marvelous," sighed Míriel, clasping her hands together, all thoughts of Túron and Tindómë disappearing. "How many ellyn will the Lord and Lady bring as their escort, do you wager?"

Vanyamorë was not surprised at her sister's question. Míriel was often thinking of such things. Indeed, Vanyamorë herself thought about them at times, but she was not so bold as to speak of them aloud. "I do not care," she said firmly, in answer to her sister's question. "And I do not make wagers, like some human that is eager to earn some money."

Míriel sniffed at her. "Oh, very well. You are no fun, Vanya. I will have to find Sárawen. She is much more exciting than you." This was true. Vanyamorë was sure all the ellyn of Rivendell would agree. Sárawen had to be the biggest flirt in the Last Homely House. She was also the most beautiful and most sought for maiden that Vanyamorë knew.

"Yes, our sister will gladly talk with you of such daring things," she said, while Míriel giggled.

"Well, I'm off to bathe and dress for the Feast," said Míriel, standing at last and smoothing her rumpled skirt.

"Don't you wish to hear the other news, Míriel? My guess is that this news will be even more marvelous to your ears."

"Of course," Míriel paused, leaned back down onto the bed.

Vanyamorë felt her heartbeat quicken with exhilaration. "Well, Sárawen received a letter from Adar this morning." She paused to make the moment more exciting. "And he says that we are to visit this very next month! And we are going to meet— in _Lorien_!"

Míriel dramatically swooned on the bed.

Cheeks flushed with adrenaline, Vanyamorë went on. "It will be a long journey, for us and for Adar and Naneth, but Adar's parents are in Lorien, and he says—he says, if we wish, we may stay with them in Lorien for a time!"

"Oh, Vanya! Leaving Rivendell at last!" Traveling was something Míriel had long aspired to do. "And visiting _Lorien_… I have always wanted to go there." Míriel sat suddenly. "I must go tell all my friends. Oh, and I have to choose what dresses to take!" Her face became worried. "Oh, there is so much to do, and in less than a month!"

She hopped off the bed and hurried to her wardrobe.

Vanyamorë left the room quietly, leaving her sister alone to talk earnestly to her gowns.

X

Victory! Vanyamorë thought, as she threw down her comb triumphantly. She had, after nearly an hour, managed her hair into an elegant mass of curls, some on top of her head and the rest spilling down her shoulders. By Elbereth, she had such a massive amount of hair! Long, thick, and dark. It was lovely, but she did not know this, for she saw only the abundance of dark waves, unruly and easily tangled.

Míriel's hair was like spun gold, thin and wispy, and only reaching to her middle-back. It was straight and fine, and the colour of it made one think of a bright, warm, Midsummer Day. Their eldest sister, Sárawen, had hair the colour of flame, auburn and golden-brown and red. It suited both her personality and her own name: Sárawen, which meant Fiery Maiden in the Quenya tongue.

Each of them was very different. Vanyamorë thought about this as she struggled into the new gown Sárawen had purchased for her. Sárawen was a sassy stinker, and proud of it. She was shorter than both her younger sisters, and her hips were a bit wider. She had tiny hands and feet, and sneering curled lips that dared any ellon to tell her 'no'.

Míriel was, surprisingly, the tallest of the three. She was thin and fragile, with slender arms and legs, and a tiny waist. Quite frankly, Vanyamorë thought with a sigh, Míriel was spoiled and immature. She was a lovely little thing, but had yet to learn of the real important things in life.

The gown was blue. It was long and flowy, clinging tightly about her waist and snugly to her breasts and buttocks. It was a tad more revealing than she was comfortable with. She tried yanking the neckline higher, but that didn't work. She tried bunching the material at her waist, but that didn't work either.

No, the seamstress who had made that dress had made it to be showy, and showy was how it would be. With a self-conscious sigh, Vanyamorë took her Naneth's necklace from its place in her top drawer. Naneth had given it to her on her begetting day, forty summers ago. That was the day she had become two hundred.

She had never worn the necklace, for she had never found the right occasion and matching dress. She held it up to the window, watching the late afternoon sunlight catch the jewels. This was something she did often. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The chain was of silver, the stone a polished sapphire, and gently surrounding the centerstone were four polished pearls, tinted slightly pink.

As she fastened the clasp behind her neck, Vanyamorë completed her thoughts. She had thought of Sárawen, and of Míriel. What of herself? Truly? She could not say. She was simple and quiet, yet had many friends. She could paint, write, sew, and cook. She had never had a lover. She tried not to flirt. All in all, her life was rather perfect.

Boring, but perfect.

X

"My my," said Húriel, clucking her tongue. "I don't believe you've ever worn such a dress, my friend."

"I have not," Vanyamorë felt her cheeks heat. "But Sárawen bought it for me and I swore to wear it. I always keep my word. And it _is _a lovely colour."

"Indeed," said Húriel, who always felt that teasing was necessary. Vanya hoped her friend would not carry her jesting into the Feasting Hall. "Many will wonder wear the curves have come from, since they did not know you had them. You always hide them underneath your unsightly clothes."

"My clothes are not unsightly!" Vanyamorë felt worried. "Are they? I did not think they were."

"I am merely jesting you," Húriel said. "Nay, you are lovely no matter what you wear. Everyone knows this."

But Vanyamorë still worried.

The Hall was lit with a hundred lanterns and the roaring fire at the end of the room. They met their friends and Húriel dragged Vanyamorë to the 'special' side of the room. "This is where the available maidens sit, Vanya. You must not sit on the other side, or others will think you vain."

"It is not that I am vain," said Vanyamorë. "But my Naneth's sister is over there, and I would like to sit with her." She also did not like to be labeled as 'available'.

"Pft!" said Húriel, waving her hand. "You must not been seen with that Elf! She is a bore, that one!"

"Nay, she is not!" said Vanyamorë, but Húriel went on.

"I insist, Vanya. You will sit with me." She smiled. "Perhaps someone will ask you to dance."

"Oh, I hope not!"

That was what she said, but not quite the way she felt. In fact, her friend's words brought an image to her mind, one she very quickly discarded, berating herself uneasily.

She was sat in a chair and handed a glass of wine. Her friends were surrounding her, the music was lovely, and the wine was very nice. In a few moments, she began to forget her worries. It would be an enjoyable night.

X

"Have another glass of wine," said Inyarë, pressing a full goblet into Vanya's hands. "It is an excellent vintage, is it not? Vanyamorë agreed that it was. The liquid was cool against her throat, but it burned on the way down, leaving a tingling trail of fire that muddled the mind and loosened one's tongue. She was finally beginning to relax and enjoy herself. They had only been feasting for less than an hour. She had better be careful with the wine.

She could see Míriel by the window, talking with a raven-haired ellon. Could that be Túron?

"Look Vanya, there is the Lady!" Húriel took her arm while she gestured to the entryway. "They are here at last!"

Vanyamorë strained to see through the mass of merrymakers. At last she stood on her chair, slightly above the others, and had her first look at the Lady of Light.

Galadriel wore a white gown, simple and elegant, that fell about her, glowing as though cast in starlight. Her hair was golden, even moreso than Míriel's, and it fell in waves well past her waist. Her eyes were what struck Vanyamorë the most, glowing with a light of there own, deep and boundless as Heaven's nighttime field.

Beside her stood her Lord, Celeborn the Wise, but Vanyamorë gave him only a brief glance before returning her gaze to the Lady. What a Lady! Vanyamorë's breath was stolen away a second time, eyes widening as she watched Elrond kiss the hand of his wife's Naneth,

They spoke, but she could not hear their words.

At last she sunk back down into her chair, heart still fluttering in her chest.

"Oh, Húriel, she is magnificent!"

"Indeed," said Húriel. "She is lovely. The tales that describe her do her no justice."

Vanya nodded. "Aye, that is true." She wondered if she could describe the Lady to another, and found that she could not. There were no words that could tell of the majesty and grace of Galadriel.

The music started again. Míriel hurried over to Vanya, grasping her hand and hissing in her ear., "Vanya, all the Lorien ellyn have gold or silver hair! It is extraordinary!"

"Yes—" was all Vanya could say, before Míriel went on.

"As far as I am concerned, Tindómë may have Túron." She sniffed. "I will gladly find someone else."

Vanyamorë frowned. "But Míriel, dearest—"

"I must be seen by them," said Míriel, dropping her sister's hand. "I'm off to meet the newcomers, Vanya. Goodbye."

Then she was gone.

Vanyamorë sighed. That very day her sister had been weeping on her bed, claiming to be in love with a certain ellon, and now she was already trying to catch another? Míriel confused her sometimes.

"Who is that?" Inyarë pointed to someone across the room. "I've never seen him before."

Húriel looked. "Ah," she said.

Vanyamorë strained to see. "Who are you looking at?"

"That one there. In the blue tunic."

The blue caught her eye. Vanyamorë studied the ellon. He was very tall, and lean, and had light hair, lighter than Míriel's. His face was merry, his eyes cornflower blue. They were sparkling eyes, full of laughter and ease. He was talking to an elleth, and the elleth was laughing— Vanyamorë looked again. The elleth was Sárawen!

She was much shorter than this mystery ellon, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was asking her to dance. Already! He had only been there but a few minutes. Sárawen took his arm and they left. Vanyamorë shook her head. Her eldest sister was very brave, indeed!

"Who is he?" Inyarë asked again, nudging her friend.

"His name is Rúmil. He is a warden. My brother knows him well, and I have spoken to him a few times." She wagged her finger. "His is kind, but beware of his flattery. If possible, he is a bigger flirt than Sárawen and you would both be wise to ignore his remarks."

Vanyamorë nodded and drank her wine.

"Húriel, may I have the next dance?" Vanyamorë looked up.

"Indeed, Hóron." Húriel smiled up at her brother. "But should you not be tending to Wendel?"

"I have danced with her three times already!" he said.

"Very well." Húriel took his arm and they departed.

Vanyamorë saw Tindómë dancing with an ellon, and she knew at once that it must be Túron. Tindómë was a sweet young elleth, who would never do any wrong to her friend. Míriel had exaggerated her tale again. Tindómë said something to her dance partner and he laughed and kissed her forehead. Vanyamorë smiled, glad that Míriel had given him up, for Tindómë looked truly happy.

Inyarë hurried off and found a partner, and Vanya watched with joy. She really had never learned to dance. She loved to watch the partners glide across the room, skirts flowing and laughter coming from their smiling faces.

She relaxed into the comfortable chair, found a new glass of wine, and sighed.

X

An hour later, she was still seated in her chair. It was hot in the Feasting Hall. She waved a hand in front of her face. An ellon was coming her way. He was looking directly at her. Dread seeped into her chest. Would he ask her to dance? She stepped back, turned, and ran. She would be safe in the garden. No one would find her there. She darted out the door unnoticed, leaving the poor ellon standing alone by her empty chair.

She stumbled out of the room, her mind muddled and her feet aching. Outside was freezing and the moon hung pale and cold in the dark sky.

The garden was lovely. Many of flowers did not bloom in autumn, but the marigolds were big and contrasted nicely with the multi-coloured trees. My, but it was cold! Especially when the wind blew. Her eyes landed on the private and warm gazebo.

She ran along the well-tended path and under the archway the gazebo. Vines hung thickly about the walls, vines that, in the spring, were covered with blue and violet blossoms. It was warmer there, and safe from the wind. She sniffed and hurried in further, and turned around.

Someone was already there.

A he.

And He was sleeping.

She swallowed, backing slightly away. She couldn't help but stare at his stately clothing. And that light hair! By the Gods, it was marvelous. She had to leave at once before she did something stupid to embarrass herself.

The ellon sat. His eyes were open now, bright grey eyes that stared straight into hers and made her heart stop. Would he be angry? He must be a guest! From Lorien or Mirkwood… her mind was a muddle of startled confusion. After a moment he smiled a dazzling smile. A bit drunk, but still dazzling.

"Welcome lirimaer," his voice was husky and – almost amused. "Have you come to spend the night with me, my beauty? I was looking for a lovely thing like you, but nothing at the party was handsome enough to interest me. However, _you _look most pleasing."

Her heart was pricked at his crude comment, and her blood flamed. "How dare you!" she gasped and nearly fainted when he stood swiftly and in one stride was right up next to her. "Leave me be and let me go!"

He was so very tall when he stood, and his hands wrapped about her wrists in a vice-like grip. "My darling, surely you don't mean to leave the celebrations so soon? Perhaps we could have a little celebration of our own, right here."

She gasped at this and made to cry for help but he pushed her up against the wall of the gazebo and fastened his lips against hers so strongly that she could do nothing. For one, she was terrified, for another, she was shocked, and most importantly, it was the first time anyone had kissed her.

His mouth was warm against hers; his lips were soft and his grip on her wrists was strong. With great care he massaged her lips with his own, until finally, when she was sure he would pull away, she felt the strangest thing—it felt like his tongue!—press against her lips.

Then he nudged against her jaw with his fingers, coaxed her lips apart, and really kissed her.

Kissed her!

Her knees melted and when he pressed one rock-solid leg between her thighs she felt the queerest sensation in her lower stomach, fiery and unfamiliar and wonderful. A tiny noise escaped her throat and then he had pulled back and he was chuckling…

Chuckling?

Her face flamed. "Let me go!" she beat her hands against his chest. "Let me go this instant!"

"As you wish, lirimaer." He dropped his hands from her wrists and backed away. "Might I add that it was you who invaded my privacy?"

"If you think—"

"Your dress is lovely," he cut her off. "I can almost see your breasts," he stated. "The cold air has made them even lovelier."

"OH!" she gasped, and fled from the gazebo clutching her arms to her chest.

His low laughter followed her all the way through the garden.

X

Author's Note: Here are the translations of the main character's names. They are all Quenya names. The sisters are very young in Elf years. Sárawen is not quite five hundred when the story begins.

Sárawen – Fiery Maiden

Vanyamorë – Dark Beauty

Míriel – Lady Garlanded with Jewels


	2. Chapter 2

:The Brothers of Lórien:

_Written by the authors of 'the Elleth and the Prince'. Three sisters set out to win the hearts of Lorien's Marchwarden and his two brothers. As second oldest, Vanyamorë is destined to ensnare the second eldest brother. When the eldest of the brothers secretly begins to help her to win his brother's heart, she finds she is falling head over heels-- for the wrong Elf!_

Chapter 2

X

I have had much much, too much to drink, Vanyamorë thought sternly, as she stumbled along the corridor, feeling her way in the dimly lit hall. She had gone straight back to the party, politely avoided every ellon who would have asked her to dance, and drank four or five more glasses of wine.

Her stomach lurched and she tripped. She wished for Sárawen or Húriel, or even Míriel, but they did not come. Her knees buckled and hit the floor hard. She leaned her head against the cool wall, her cheeks flushed. Her stomach rolled about terribly. It was alarming. She did not want her dinner spread all over the floor.

Her head was pounding, too. What a fool I am! Vanyamorë sighed heavily. She was not thinking straight, but she did know that tomorrow the headache would be worse.

Someone was coming. Slow footsteps echoed down the corridor. She listened. This person was not drunk. Even intoxicated she could tell this by the sound of their feet. Sadly, she had not the strength to stand and ask for help. They nearly passed her by, barely managing to bump into her with one foot.

"Well, now. How did you get down there?" came a voice. It was a male voice, one she did not recognize.

"I fell," she said simply, her words slurred.

The voice laughed. The laugh was not unkind. His voice was very low. He was still chuckling as he stooped and lifted her easily into his arms.

Her small hands went 'round his neck and he tucked her head under his chin. She was too far-gone to be embarrassed or shy. He straightened, holding her to him. "Now, where is your room, young one?"

"Idunno," she murmured.

"Mmnn," he thought for a moment. "Well, I see no other option but to put you in my own bed."

"What…?" she raised her head.

"Worry not," he said, and continued down the corridor.

X

She fell asleep a few times while they went to his room, and was half-asleep when he entered. She heard the next bit of conversation very clearly.

"What have you there?" a teasing voice. It was not the Elf who had rescued her.

"Let me see!" A third voice.

Her Elf spoke to both of them. "Hush, both of you, before you wake her."

"They're no fun asleep!"

"This one is not here for fun. I cannot find her sleeping quarters and so she will have to sleep in my bed. I see no other option."

"I see one! She could sleep in my bed."

"Go to sleep, fool. You are drunk."

She was placed on a soft bed, and fingers tugged at the pins in her hair, removing them all. She sighed a thank you but didn't know if he heard. After a moment, she tugged at her uncomfortable dress. "Thizzis itchy, canyou takit of me?"

Laughter. "She wants you to take off her gown! Do it, do it!"

"Not while you drunken bastards watch. I'm drawing the curtains."

She almost drifted off to sleep again, but awoke when he raised her arms to remove the dress. She sighed as she felt the blankets against her skin. "Thank… you..."

"You are welcome." He shifted, and returned with a something. "It is one of mine. It is too big, but you may sleep in it." He pulled the large shirt over her head, helping her put her arms through the sleeves. Then he pulled back the covers and put her inside. "Sleep well."

He disappeared.

"Do you mean to sleep on the floor!" came the teasing voice again. "You are loosing your opportunity!"

"She is drunk, and I will not dishonor her."

Vanyamorë's head felt as though it would pop open or burst at any moment, but she sat and brushed aside the curtains concealing the bed. She explained, in a groggy voice, that she did not care if he shared the bed.

More laughter.

He climbed up beside her, closed the curtains, and put her back in bed. "Ignore them," he said, brushing her hair back from her face. "They laugh at me, not you."

"Hmmn," she said. It was nice to lay here next to this warm person. The shirt she wore was softer than silk and she snuggled into it, and up against his chest.

"Are you cold?"

"A little," she sighed.

He ran his fingers over her arm, pulled her closer. "Sleep."

And she did.

X

"Wake up."

The maiden in the bed flinched. She brought her hands up to shield her eyes from the morning sunlight, moaning softly.

Orophin's smile widened. He shook her gently again, saying, "It is late after dawn. You must wake up. Then we can find something to fix your head."  
She said something that sounded like 'bleh', and rolled away from him.

He found himself studying her dark locks. His own hair was very light. He had no idea who this maiden was, or where she had come from, but he did know that she needed to get up before someone found her in his room.

She still wore the too-large nightshirt, and it had slipped off one shoulder and was hanging dangerously low. He tucked her hair away from her face, pushing it behind her ear. He was late for his sparring match with Elrohir, but it was much more enjoyable to sit in bed with this sleeping beauty.

With a sigh, he drew the cover over her, stood, and left the room. She could sleep a while longer. She'd have an awful headache when she awoke.

X

"Wake up."

Vanyamorë groaned, covering her ears.

Rúmil laughed outloud. Orophin was right, this one was used to sleeping in, and she was not about to stir. "Get up, pretty one, and then you may eat and go to the healers. You will feel much better, I assure you."

She did not move.

The door was bolted. Rúmil shifted the blankets a tad so he could sneak a look at her. The nightshirt was tangled about her, falling off her shoulders and riding high on her waist. Indeed, he could see all up her legs, all the way to her tiny undershorts. They were fringed with lace and hugged her bottom nicely. He grinned.

The maiden rolled over at last, her lashes fluttering. For a moment she stared wide-eyed at him, then said softly, "Did you… are you the one who rescued me last night?"

"Nay, I am not. I wish I were." He smiled. "That was my brother."

"Oh." She remembered the first elf who had been trying to wake her. "I wanted to tell him thank you."

"You did so last night. He needs no other thanks."

She tried to sit, and failed.

"Your head is hurting you?"  
She sighed. "I'm afraid I overdrank last night. I do not usually do that." Lights were exploding behind her closed eyes, her head hammering in time with her heartbeat.

"You could take a bath," he suggested brightly. "And I could fetch you some breakfast. We have a huge bathing room. You are free to use it. Our door locks, so you need not worry," he added, seeing her wary look.

"Well, I suppose… if it would not be too much trouble," she said pensively.

"None, I assure you." He stood, offering her his hand. "I've got to meet with Lord Erestor first. I promised him I would. It will not take more than an hour. You may take as long as you like in the bath."

X

Haldir sighed. He'd just come from a meeting with Elrond and Celeborn, and though it had gone well, his head was beginning to hurt. His chambers in Imladris included a bathing room, and he was anxious to reach it. He thought of the tiny maiden who had been sleeping in his room, but then brushed it off. Orophin had promised to get rid of her first thing in the morning.

The bath was already drawn. Tiny tendrils of steam curled up from the dark water, petals strewn across the rippling surface. There was some sort of scented oil in the water too; he could smell it all the way from the door. He began stripping off his clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the floor.

He tugged off his boots, which were followed by his leggings. Much better. He stretched, turned, and walked to the tub.

And froze.

He had not realized it last night, but the drunken maiden was, in fact, the maiden he had come across in the garden. And she was currently running a brush through her dark hair, unaware that he was there. He felt his stomach tighten, remembering the little sound she had made when he kissed her.

It didn't help that she wore not a stitch of clothing. The nightshirt was lying discarded on the floor, along with her lacy underthings. She set down the brush, sighed, and turned.

X

Rúmil was bored. Erestor was wise, but he was also very old and boring.

Rúmil wondered about Vanyamorë. He knew by her name that she was the sister of the lovely maiden he had danced with the night before. Sárawen was her name. She had told him of both her sisters, and even revealed that they would be returning to Lorien with him.

Erestor droned on, so tedious that Rúmil nearly fell asleep. He hoped the hour was almost over.

X

She screamed, long and loud, eyes wide, hands brought to her cheeks.

Haldir rushed forward. He slid one arm about her waist, lifting the other one to her face. He clasped the maiden over the mouth, his voice demanding. "Hush, young one."

She continued her gurgled cries beneath his fingers.

"HUSH!"

She fell silent, although she was still quaking.

He snatched the nightshirt from the ground, slipping it over her shoulders. "There." He stood back, releasing her mouth. "Now, listen to what I have to say."

She was breathing hard, her face a lovely pink. Indeed, if she were not so embarrassed, he would have laughed.

"I did not know you were here," he said. "And I am sorry to intrude upon your privacy."

She said nothing, only stared at him.

"If you wish, you may bathe first. I can wait."

Still she said nothing. She was staring very intently at him.

Oh. Well, he was still unclothed. No matter. "Can you not speak?" he asked.

She blinked. "Oh, I-I am s-sorry!" she said. "I did not expect anyone here for another h-hour. Rúmil said…" she trailed off. "I'm sorry," she said again, not meeting his eyes. "I should go to my own room."

He bowed his head to her.

Vanyamorë was so embarrassed that she could hardly think. He had just seen her fully unclothed!! No male had ever done such a thing. What embarrassed her most was that she was already wondering he had thought her beautiful. And to add to her shame, she could not take her eyes from him. She was no expert, having never seen a naked male before now, but my, he was lovely! She was so embarrassed that she could hardly breath. She certainly couldn't speak sensibly.

She was babbling. "I should go to my own room," she was saying.

She ran past him, clutching the nightshirt about her. She dashed out the door and down the corridor.

He let her.

X

Orophin had gone to the kitchens, wondering whether his mystery elleth would be there yet. To his surprise, he found Rúmil preparing a tray of food. "What are you doing, brother? Planning to eat in bed?"

"On the contrary, Orophin, this is for Vanyamorë, who you failed to wake." He lifted the tray into his hands. "I did the task for you. Right now she is bathing in our tub."

"Our tub?" Orophin frowned. "Why?" Then another thought struck him. "She told you her name?"

Rúmil rolled his eyes. "Yes, dear brother. She is not mute."

Orophin scowled, following Rúmil from the kitchen. "Why did you not take her to her own room?"

"She wanted a bath. It was part of what got her out of the bed. And she was fascinated with our rather large tub. Her own, she said, is not so fine as ours."

Orophin opened the door for his brother. "But how are you sure she is finished? We cannot walk in on her if she is bathing."

"I told her I would be back in a hour. It has been longer than that. Surely she will be finished."

They entered their room.

"I have your breakfast, my dear." Rúmil set the tray on the corner of his bed. "When you are finished bathing, it will be waiting for you."

Haldir appeared from behind the bathroom door, his eyebrow raised. "Since when have you considered me 'dear', Rúmil?"

Rúmil gawked. "You… what are you doing in there?"

Even Orophin was surprised. "Where is the elf maiden?" he demanded.

Haldir did not answer right away. He was busy lacing his tunic.

A thought struck Rúmil. "You didn't!" he exclaimed.

"On the contrary, I did, _dear _Rúmil." He sat on the bed and took an apple from the tray.

"What?" Orophin looked back from each of his brothers. "What's going on?"

"I cannot be blamed," Haldir went on. "I was surprised, to say the least, but she was rather mortified."

"Sweet Eru." Rúmil sank onto the bed. After a moment, he lifted his head. "I feel responsible," he admitted. "Where is she?"

"I don't know. Her bedroom, I would assume."

Rúmil and Orophin bolted from the door, leaving it swinging on its hooks.

Haldir took a bite from his apple, smiling.

The maiden's lacy pantalets were safely tucked into his pack.

X

"Vanya, where have you been?" Sárawen took Vanyamore's hands. "We were so worried for you!"

"I w-was… I don't know. I-I'm tired and hungry, Sárawen. And I n-need a b-bath." She blushed as the last words came out.

"What has happened?" Sárawen asked, observing the flush in her sister's cheeks. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing, really," Vanya lied. "I just wish to bathe."

But Sárawen was eyeing her nightshirt warily. "Where did you get this?" she demanded, folding her arms.

"Oh." Vanyamore stared down at the silky silver shirt, barely reaching to her mid-thigh. "I can't remember." It was true; she could hardly remember anything from the night before. "Someone… gave it to me," she said blandly.

Sarawen raised an eyebrow. She was frowning. At last she shrugged. "Very well," she said. She pointed to the bathing room. "The tub is full. Miriel just finished."

"Thank you." Vanya hurried past her, still blushing.

Sárawenen frowned.

X

Author's Note: I don't know if I should make this a more mature story. Some people don't like it when I write that sort of stuff. If I do, I'll have to change the rating to M. If that will offend you, please let me know. And I'm always open to suggestions. --LovelyE. aka _VanyaUndomiel_


	3. Chapter 3

:The Brothers of Lórien:

_Written by the authors of 'the Elleth and the Prince'. Three sisters set out to win the hearts of Lorien's Marchwarden and his two brothers. As second oldest, Vanyamorë is destined to ensnare the second eldest brother. When the eldest of the brothers secretly begins to help her to win his brother's heart, she finds she is falling head over heels-- for the wrong Elf!_

Chapter 3

X

Rúmil sat cross-legged in the grass, a piece of wood in one hand and a carving knife in the other. He shaved a sliver of wood away, sending it to join with the others that lay scattered about him. "Have you met Sárawen?" he wondered aloud, eyeing his brother with interest.

Orophin opened his eyes. "I have, indeed." He was lying on his back, hands behind his head. "She is lovely."

"Aye." Rúmil frowned. He had hoped that neither of his brothers had met the charming elleth. He fidgeted for a moment before adding, "I intend to woo her."

"Ha!" Orophin rolled over into a sitting position, a smile on his face. "Think you that you will succeed, brother?"

Rúmil glared back at him. "I don't suppose you think you could do any better?"

"Of course I could. I am both older and wiser than you."

"The first is true, but the second claim is false!" Rúmil threw down his piece of wood. "I wager I could get her to sleep with me by the end of month!"

"I wager she would sleep with me within a week!"

"You are both fools," said Haldir, who had been lying there silently. "You do not go about wagering on a maiden's consent to bed you. As wardens of the Lady, you should have more honor." He smiled slightly, eyeing one then the other of his red-faced brothers. "On that note," he said, "How did your last wager go?"

Rúmil scowled.

:FLASHBACK:

"At the Feast I will dance with at least ten more maidens than you will," Rúmil announced.

"Nay!" Orophin swatted lightly at him. "When has that ever happened? I will be surrounded by ellith the entire night, whilst you will be chasing them."

"Ha, ha!" Rúmil snorted. "It is only because you are the better dancer."

"This is truth," Orophin smiled.

"I will woo more of them."

Orophin stopped smiling. "Are you claiming to be the better charmer, my brother?"

"Indeed."

Haldir smiled at their banter, pretending not to notice. They had nearly reached the gates of Imladris. His brothers were currently debating which one of them would win the most kisses.

"But kisses cannot be proven," Rúmil pointed out. "There must be something you can show."

"What shall we use?" Orophin thought. "We cannot steal their jewelry."

"Aye, that is so." Rúmil thought. "A piece of their clothing?" he said at last.

Haldir listened more intently, highly amused.

"What do you mean by that?" Orophin asked. "I will not go about tearing pieces off the maiden's dresses."

"That is not what I meant!" Rúmil scowled.

"A handkerchief, then?"

"Nay, that would be too easy. Something you cannot take off them. You must find it in their room."

"Their dresses are costly. Stealing would be dishonorable."

Rúmil nodded.

"Underclothes!" Orophin said suddenly, and laughed. "That would be daring, indeed!"

Rúmil smiled. "It will make the wager more enticing, brother. And if you do not know the identity of the maiden whom's clothes you have taken, they shall not be of worth."

"Alright then, you have a deal."

"You have a deal."

:END FLASHBACK:

"…how did your last wager go?"

Rúmil scowled. "Terrible."

"Horrible."

"Really?" Haldir looked slightly taken aback. "You predicted to steal at least four pairs of maiden's undergarments."

Rúmil squirmed. "I know," he muttered, tearing up a bit of grass.

"What did you wager, by the way?"

They both looked up at their eldest brother. He was up to something, they could tell.

"Two dozen arrows," Orophin said, a wary look creeping over his face.

"A week of laundry," Rúmil said, his face beginning to pale. "You don't mean—"

"I do, brother." Haldir smiled, first at Orophin, and then at Rúmil. "In fact, they are in my pack right now."

"WHAT?" Orophin nearly shot from his spot. "How did you get them!" he demanded.

"Whose are they?" Rúmil asked, a pout on his face. "It doesn't count unless you know whose they are."

"Very well," Haldir said, lying back down in the grass. "They belong to Vanyamorë."

Silence.

"The drunken elleth?" Rúmil said stupidly. "The very one who slept in our room last night?"

"The same," said Haldir.

"By Illuvatar," said Orophin, "You did not take them right off her backside, did you Haldir?"

"Please Orophin, don't compare me to Rúmil."

"I would never do that!" Rúmil exclaimed, and then went on to ask, "How did you get them then?"

"She took them off herself," Haldir said. "When she was going to bathe."

Orophin had already worked it out in his head. "No fair!" he said. "She didn't count! Getting their undergarments was to prove that they had kissed you."

"And you never agreed to the wager!" Rúmil pointed out.

Haldir chuckled to himself. "Very well," he said. "I don't want your arrows, Orophin. And I would never trust you with my clothes, Rúmil. I simply wished to prove to you both that I am the greater charmer _and _the wisest of us three."

"I differ!" Rúmil said passionately. He hit Orophin on the back. "Tell him he's not right!" He gestured to their eldest brother.

"I am thinking of a way to say it, but unfortunately, it appears to be true." Orophin smiled.

"A new wager then," Rúmil said desperately. "One where we all agree fairly to the terms."

"A fine plan," Haldir smiled lazily, opening one eye. Orophin thought uneasily that his brother resembled a lion. "What do you suggest, Rúmil?"

Rúmil thought. "Give me a moment," he said.

Orophin waited, a little disturbed. "Is it possible that I can decline this wager and simply watch?"

"If you want to lose your honor," Rúmil said, frowning. He did not want to be the only one against Haldir.

"What of that maiden you two were discussing earlier?" Haldir asked suddenly. "You both seemed eager to win her approval."

"True," said Rúmil thoughtfully, glancing at Orophin. "What say you, brother?"

"I say this is foolishness," Orophin sighed. "But I cannot back down now."

"Name the wager, Rúmil."

"Very well." Rúmil cleared his throat. "Whichever of us first woos the maiden Sárawen shall be the conqueror."

"And what are you willing to risk, Rúmil?"

Haldir smiled.

X

Míriel smiled. She could see Lord Elrohir speaking with his grandmother. It was his birthday. She was planning to tell him of her departure to Lorien, and perhaps get a farewell hug from the handsome Elf prince.

"Míriel!" came a voice. She turned, annoyed.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing at her older sister.

Vanyamorë smiled at her. "I wanted you to meet Gelwyth."

For the first time, Míriel noticed the quiet maiden standing beside Vanya. Her hair was fair and pulled back into a braid. Her clothes were plain, and she wore a grey cloak. "My lady," she said, inclining her head.

"She is one of Galadriel's maidens," Vanyamorë said. "The Lady has asked her to be our personal guide for the journey to Lorien. It is a great honor indeed."

Míriel sniffed inwardly at the quiet maid. "A pleasure," she said stiffly. "What was your name again?"

"Gelwyth, my lady."

"Very well." Míriel turned away, only to see that Elrohir had disappeared. She scowled.

"Are you packed?" Vanyamorë asked. "We leave on the morrow."

"Yes, I am," Míriel was still frowning. "I have four bags. I hope my horse will be able to carry them all."

"Four?" Vanya looked a tad worried. "I have only one, and Raegol told me just that will be heavy on the horse."

"I must have all my things, Vanya. I'm already leaving so much behind."

Vanyamorë nodded understandingly, although she didn't understand.

"I'll find you later," Míriel said. "I want to talk with Sárawen. And I need to find Lord Elrohir."

X

Sárawen eyed herself in the large mirror. She was dressed in a tight violet-coloured gown, with flowing sleeves and a heavy-layered skirt. Her red hair streamed over her shoulder, glinting in the sunlight that came in through the open window. She placed a necklace about her throat, and dabbed scented water at her wrists and neck.

"How do you do?" she crooned to herself, with the air of a well-practiced flirt. "A pleasure to meet you, my lord. I am Sárawen of Rivendell. Saaarawen…" she rolled the vowels on her tongue.

She was beautiful. She knew this. Her eyes danced with mirth as she collected her bags. This visit to Lorien was sure to be promising. There would be countless ellyn that she did not know. It would be terribly exciting. She only hoped Míriel didn't cast a bad reflection upon her.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly. The Lady and Lord were already mounted, along with the rest of their escort. Míriel was pouting because they could only fit three of her large bags onto the poor horse.

"What do you expect me to do?" she wailed. "Just leave one behind? You want me to throw away my belongings?"

Sárawen found herself pitying the ellon who was trying to help her.

Rúmil sighed. "No, my lady. But your horse simply cannot take such a load."

"Excuse me," Sárawen took Míriel's arm and pulled her two steps away. "Behave yourself, Míriel! Do you want the ellyn to see you as a child?"  
Míriel paled slightly. "Nay, I do not."

"Then stop acting like one. You are embarrassing me."

Míriel grumbled as the Rúmil helped her to mount.

In the end, Vanyamorë's horse bravely bore Míriel's last bag, along with Vanya's own smaller bag.

They started out late, but only by half an hour.

"Safe traveling," Elrond said. "May you ride with the wind at your backs. Farewell!"

Vanyamorë enjoyed the rocking of the large horse, the light chill in the air, and the autumnal scenery. It was a lovely peaceful day, and she was going to see her parents.

As the day wore on, she found herself remembering a conversation she had had with Sárawen the day before.

Sárawen had announced her plan to woo the Marchwarden.

Vanyamorë did not see why anyone would like to do such a thing. He frightened her! And because of what had happened in the bathing chamber, he also embarrassed her. The worst of it was that he was very handsome and she could not look at him once without thinking how very beautiful he had been, when she saw all of him. She did not think she would tell Sárawen any of this.

Sárawen had then been so bold as to plan a scheme for her sisters. She thought Orophin was perfect for Vanya. He was a bit shyer than his brother Rúmil, and Vanyamorë was the same way. It was high time she wooed her first ellon, Sárawen had pointed out.

And, Vanya thought, he had rescued her in the hall the night she was drunk. It was a very kind thing for him to do. And he certainly did not frighten her. She liked him. She liked him very much, in fact. He was handsome, and smart, and very sweet. She had almost said yes when he asked her to dance that first night. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but by now Vanyamorë was determined to woo Orophin of Lorien.

In fact, she was excited to woo him.

But she did not know how it was ever going to work.

X

That first night, they made camp late, when the first of the stars had just peeped out. Vanyamorë was more tired than she could ever remember being her life, and the grumpy Míriel did not help anything. Vanya bravely tried to remain cheerful, but the ground was so very hard and her muscles hurt so badly that it almost brought her to tears.

She remembered Sárawen's words about Orophin and sighed. How could she be charming when she felt like this? It was hard enough when she was comfortable and back in Rivendell.

Sleep came at last, but it was fitful and uneasy. The next morning she could hardly put herself onto the horse, so sore was she.

All in all, the trip was not so glamorous or wonderful as she had expected.

X

"Vanya!" Míriel stumbled off of her horse, knees wobbling, and collapsed into Vanyamorë's arms, where she burst into tears. "What a dreadful animal!" she cried, clinging to her sister's dress. "I have never bore such pain!"

Vanyamorë shifted. Her own pain was terrible. Though Míriel was thin, that did not mean she was light, and Vanya struggled under the strain of both their weight. She could hardly stand. She brought her arms tight about the quaking Míriel. "I'm sorry Míriel, dearest. But you cannot blame the horse. It is not his fault that you ache so."

"Yes, 'tis!" Míriel had stopped crying. "He is so big and fat, and my legs and bottom are hurting so much!"

Vanyamorë decided not to point out that all horses were wide at their middle. "I'm sorry you are hurting, Míriel."

"Míriel!" Gelwyth hurried over to them. "What is the matter, my lady? Are you ill?"

Moaning, Míriel went off hanging on Gelwyth's arm.

Vanyamorë turned, her entire lower body quaking. It was awful, that unsteady feeling, and she tried to take a step without letting her thighs touch.

"Oof!" she stumbled forward, landing on her face. Her aching muscles screamed in protest and she let out a tiny cry.

"Are you all right?"

She turned, glancing up. "O-orophin!" She blushed, rolling to her side. "I fear I am not used to horseriding yet."

He laughed, stooping to help her stand. "It happens to the best of us," he assured her. They began walking to the fire, his arm about her shoulders, supporting her. "I remember the first day Haldir allowed me to ride a horse."

She looked up him. "Oh?"

He laughed. "I was but a mere elfing, overeager and too proud. I had a nasty fall, but it bruised my pride more than my body. In fact, the worst pain came the morning after, when I felt the ache in my legs and back, as you do now."

Vanyamorë thought about this and laughed. She could not imagine Haldir falling off a horse, even if was inexperienced. "Your older brother seems to have no trouble," she mumbled, as they she sank gratefully to her knees beside the fire.

Orophin laughed. "Nay, Haldir has no troubles! He was riding at an early age. He seems to have a way with the creatures." He observed her. "Are you in much pain?"

"More than I'd like to admit," she said, blushing. How kind Orophin was.

"I wish I could help you," he said. "I am trained in healing, but not for pains such as yours. There will be a healer in Caras Galadhon. He will tend to you. And then you may rest in a real bed and eat real food."

"That will be wonderful," she said, wishing that the healer were with them now.

"Are you hungry?" He fished about in his pack, producing the carefully wrapped way-bread they had been eating for the past four days.

She made a face, then immediately felt ashamed. She was determined to remain cheerful. She did _not _want to start acting like Míriel. "Thank you," she said, accepting the wafer from him.

"I must go and find Rúmil," Orophin said. "We have the first turn at watch. You are alright?"

"Of course."

He nodded to her, stood, and disappeared.

The fire crackled, flames licking about the blackened wood. Tiny sparks flew up every second, glowing orange like the setting sun. Vanyamorë wriggled back, into the grass, and relaxed. She nibbled at the lembas, her thoughts turning back to the night in Rivendell.

She thought of the Feast, which made her think of Sárawen's blue dress, which then led her to others thoughts, such as being rescued in the hall by Orophin… and the strange ellon she had come across in the garden. She had nearly forgotten! The wine had fogged her memory, but she recalled the inappropriate comments, and the fine clothing. And the lovely hair.

She blushed as she remembered the kiss. She remembered that part very well!

"Good evening, Vanyamorë."

She started, eyes sweeping up to the newcomer.

Haldir! She blushed. He stared at her for a moment, bright eyes gazing down at her until at last she spoke in an uncertain voice. "Hello."

As if deciding something, he nodded his head. He sat himself beside her, placing his bow to his left. "Orophin tells me you have had troubles with your horse."

Orophin! She felt her blush deepen. "Did he?"

He watched her carefully, his lips curling at the edges. "Indeed he did."

"Oh." She continued to eat, feeling annoyed with him for disturbing her peacefulness. He said nothing, only rolled over onto his side, propping his chin on his hand. She had never seen him look so relaxed or undignified.

Yet still he remained silent, content to watch her until she could bear it no more.

"Did you want something?" she asked, rather rudely. "I was just eating my dinner but I suppose it can wait."

"No, I need nothing." His voice was amused. "I wondered if you would like a little help with your misfortunes."

"What?" What was he saying? Why did he always talk in riddles? She scowled at him.

"More bluntly," he said, "you are very saddle sore, Vanyamorë. I can help you with that, if that would please you."

She blinked. "Oh." She could not get any more words out for a moment. She had been most unkind, when he had only come to offer his assistance. "Well, yes, that would please me very much. It is rather painful."

He nodded.

"I can do it now, or wait until you are finished with your meal."

"Now would be fine," she said eagerly, for any prospect of loosing the pain in her legs made her appetite disappear.

"Very well." He looked up, scanning about. There were three fires made, each some distance from the other, and there was no one watching them. He glanced at the maiden, at her blue eyes that were watching him intently. He thought of finding her in the bathing chamber, and then distracted himself by searching for something in the folds of his cloak.

Vanaymore saw him produce a tiny green vial. The firelight glinted off the shaped glass, and she could see the liquid inside. He set the vial in the grass, and looked up at her. He observed her silently. "What?" she asked softly. Was she supposed to do something?  
He shook his head, a smile about his lips. "Pardon me," he said, in a low voice, and before she could ask him what he wished to be pardoned for, he seized her legs and pushed them apart, seating himself between them and tugging the hem of her skirt up to her waist.

She squeaked in her embarrassment, automatically trying to close her legs, but that only made the pain worsen. "W-what are you doing!" she gasped, when she had found her voice. He had poured the oil over his fingers, and was currently rubbing his hands together.

"What you asked for," he said, "I am healing you of your pains." He placed his hands on her thighs and she jerked. He gave her an exasperated look. "Relax," he ordered. "This is not going to hurt you."

She felt a horrible blush creeping over her, until she felt nearly as scarlet as the roses back in Imladris. She was NOT wearing any undergarments! She had had seven pair, one for each day of the week, but one pair was missing now and the rest would have to wait to be cleaned. If he pushed the gown two inches higher, he would see… She tried her best not to squirm, for it hitched up her skirt even further.

There was a heat now; a simmering, soothing heat was coming from his hands. She felt the soreness easing away, amazingly fast. Her sore muscles relaxed; she even felt the knots in her neck and shoulders give way a bit. It was all so wonderful that she nearly forgot her embarrassment. In fact, his warm hands on her thighs were beginning to feel almost nice.

The sweet fragrance of the oil reached her nose. She sighed, giving way to whatever spell he was casting on her. Her eyes closed, the tiniest of moans coming from her throat. Then his hands were gone.

She opened her eyes to see him putting the vial back where he had found it. "Thank you," she sighed, and meant it. By the Gods, she was completely healed! It was as though she had never been hurt! She felt revived, but at the same time, she was well relaxed.

"You are welcome." Then he stood, and walked away from the fire.

She stared after him blankly, her mouth slightly open. Just like that? The night seemed a bit darker now that she was alone. She placed another log onto the fire, exulting in the easiness of her muscles. She wondered when Orophin's turn at watch would be over.

She unpacked her bedroll and blanket, making herself comfortable. She wondered how Sárawen was doing on her attempt to woo Haldir. What a hopeless task! When it seemed he cared, it was really only to rid her of her pains. He did not talk to others like a normal Elf. He was emotionless. She breathed out. He was also beautiful, but what had that to do with anything? Orophin and his youngest brother were beautiful too.

She was asleep before Orophin returned to the fire.

X

Author's Note: Someone asked in their review what order the brothers went in. In my story, it is the normal: Haldir, Orophin, and Rúmil. Thank you for all your support. I have decided that, in the future, whenever there is a more mature part, it will have warning posted before the chapter.

LovelyEvenstar aka _VanyaUndomiel_


	4. Chapter 4

:The Brothers of Lórien:

_Written by the authors of 'the Elleth and the Prince'. Three sisters set out to win the hearts of Lorien's Marchwarden and his two brothers. As second oldest, Vanyamorë is destined to ensnare the second eldest brother. When the eldest of the brothers secretly begins to help her to win his brother's heart, she finds she is falling head over heels-- for the wrong Elf!_

Chapter 4

X

Rúmil was unhappy. He was so unhappy that he snapped his cloak harder than necessary as he prepared for bed. He dropped the cloak onto the grass, heaved himself upon it, and turned to his side, still scowling. That older brother of his! The ellith worshipped the ground Haldir walked on, and it simply was not fair!

The maiden Sárawen had flirted sweetly with Rúmil when he had coaxed it out of her, but if Haldir so much as walked past her, she would smile beguilingly, batting her eyelashes. It was clear that their eldest brother was in the lead of their wager, and he had not even started trying yet.

It didn't help that the pesky petite blond was after him. Rúmil felt uneasy whenever she was near, despite her pert nose, pouting mouth, and golden-lashed eyes. She was an imp, no matter how beautiful she was. He was certainly not interested in her. In fact, even the quiet, dark-haired Vanyamorë interested him more than spoiled Míriel.

He had hardly spoken to the middle-aged sister, save for that first day when she had woken in his room, only to be frightened away by Haldir. Rúmil suppressed a smile. There was one female who did not throw herself at his brother's feet. A pretty one, too. She was much prettier than Míriel, although she was shy.

In fact, after traveling some time with snitty Sárawen, Rúmil was beginning to wish they had wagered on Vanyamorë instead. At least then they would have had a fair chance, as the eldest sister seemed already infatuated with Haldir.

But they could not give up just yet. He was a grand charmer, he knew this! Surely, if he spent more effort, he could woo the red-haired elleth. All he needed was time. And he had plenty of that… or so he thought.

For Haldir was smarter and craftier than Rúmil knew.

X

Orophin waited until Sárawen lifted her cup before he allowed himself to smile. He had just gotten her to agree that he should be her escort into the Golden Wood. Not Haldir, not Rúmil, nor anyone else. Surely this put him in the lead. It did not mean he had wooed her—yet. But he still had time.

The only trouble was that Haldir had only to glance at her and she flew away, floating on clouds where he could not reach her. And Rúmil, annoying thing that he was, was already flirting with her— shamelessly! He had thought his brother had a bit more romance in him, being the poet of the family. However, so far, Rúmil's deeds and remarks were far from romantic.

This was most likely the reason she ignored him. Orophin's smile vanished as she finished drinking and set down her glass. She gazed at him with those startling green eyes, her look a thoughtful one. Then she inquired, "Have you met my sister?"

"Indeed." He smiled. "Míriel?"

She grimaced. "Nay. I spoke of Vanyamorë."

He swallowed. "Ah." All three of the brothers had decided never to bring up the bath incident. "Yes, I have met her," he said vaguely. "She is lovely. Quiet, but lovely."

"She is not so quiet once she comes to know you," Sárawen said, frowning slightly. Ideas had been brewing in her head all night. She lowered her voice and spoke. "You see, Orophin, she had a love once, a long time ago. His name was Calemir, and she loved him dearly." Sárawen sighed heavily. "But he broke her heart, choosing another. She has never fully healed."  
Orophin shifted, confused. "I see."

"I had wondered if you could befriend her… as a favor to me. I would like to see her have friends other than Míriel and myself. It would do her much good."

"Of course," he said, eager to comply. _As a favor to me, _she had said. "It would be my honor."

She smiled brightly. "Thank you, Orophin. You don't know what that means to me." She rested her hand over his, where it lied in the grass.

Rúmil scowled from his hiding place. Even Orophin was doing better than he had!

"When will we reach Lorien?" she was asking.

"Tomorrow afternoon, if we are lucky," said Orophin, still feeling very triumphant.

Rúmil hurried away, a dark look in his eyes. He was concocting a plan, but there were things he had to do first.

X

Haldir spoke with three others, standing some ways away from the fire. Sárawen watched him earnestly, wishing he would speak to her. He had hardly looked at her. She smiled. But his brothers seemed interested enough. And she had long heard that Haldir of Lorien was not easily ensnared. He _had _smiled at her, once. But only briefly.

A thought struck her. He had spent time with Vanyamorë the night before. They had been talking, him lying on his side and she sitting beside him. What had they discussed? Perchance, was he trying to learn more about Vanya's lovely sister Sárawen? Sárawen smiled. This certainly must have been the case, which was why Vanya blushed whenever Sárawen mentioned his name. Sweet Vanya was trying to keep his secret from her eldest sister. Sárawen wouldn't tell, of course! She would be innocent. This almost always worked with the males.

She smiled to herself, eyes returning to Haldir. She had not wanted Orophin as her escort. She wanted Haldir. But the only way to get Orophin off her back, although he was kind and good and very handsome, was to get him hooked onto Vanyamorë. That was what she was doing. Winning his heart, so she could hand it neatly over to her sister. It would all work perfectly. She just needed time, and a little luck.

X

"Rúmil, may I speak with you?"  
Rúmil hurried to the side of the Lady, his hands behind his back. He dipped his head. "Certainly, my lady."

Galadriel smiled, his youthfulness and eagerness to be pleasing would never cease to amaze her. "Orophin has told me that he would be glad to escort Lady Sárawen."

Rúmil flinched inwardly. "Yes, my Lady."  
"You understand that their father is noble and their mother is even in relation to Thranduil of Mirkwood, though the ties are distant. I wish them to be welcomed kindly into Lorien. I had hoped you could be escort to one of them."

"Me, my lady?" Rúmil looked to her in surprise. He had never been given such a duty. As a warden, he protected his Lord and Lady, and guarded the borders of his land.

"Yes, Rúmil. I may even speak to my Marchwarden of this. There are three daughters, and I see no reason why the three of you cannot escort them. It is a simple task."

Rúmil nodded. "Very well, my Lady. I would be honored."

X

"I'm going to be your escort," he announced, standing before Vanyamorë. She stared at him for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Into the Golden Wood," he explained. "The Lady has asked me to be your escort."

"I see." Vanyamorë pondered this. "That will be very nice," she said quietly. "Thank you."

He nodded. "We are only an hour's march away now. This will be our last rest."

"All right." She watched Rúmil walk away, a frown about her lips. _What about Orophin? Why doesn't he be my escort?_

Rúmil glared at Orophin, who returned the look with a smile. "Something wrong, brother?"

"Of course not!" Rúmil snapped, his eyes glinting. "I have plenty of time. Just because you are to be Sárawen's escort does not mean you have wooed her."

"Yet," Orophin countered. "I have not wooed her 'yet'."

"You won't have the chance!" said Rúmil, folding his arms. "She'll be too interested in me to know that you exist!"

"That is highly unlikely," stated Orophin.

"Anyway, I asked her to be my first dance partner at the Feast, and she agreed."

"Yes, well once you've stepped all over her toes she will be more than happy to find a new partner!"

There came a low voice from the shadow of the trees. "Children, children," Haldir clucked his tongue. "Cease your bickering. Little birds have big ears," he said, gesturing to where Míriel sat only a few yards away.

"You're being her escort," Rúmil stated, before Haldir could continue his chastisement.

"What?" Haldir glanced at the blond maiden. "What are you talking about?"

"The Lady bid me explain," said Rúmil. "She wishes the two of us to escort Vanya and the youngest sister." His mouth tightened. "Since Orophin is already escorting Sárawen."

Haldir was unruffled. "Then I shall be Vanyamorë's escort."

"Nay, I have already chosen her," Rúmil argued.

"I'm not escorting that giggling brat anywhere."

Haldir's gaze hardened. "Neither am I." He stood an inch shorter than Rúmil, but his shoulders were much broader and his arms were very solid.

Rúmil backed away slightly. "Don't do this," he begged. "She frightens me."

"Rúmil, frightened by a maiden?" Orophin feigned shock, clasping a hand to his heart. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?" He snatched Rúmil's collar and shook him.

"Daro! _Stop_" Haldir snatched Orophin's arm, dragging him aside. His eyes were narrowed, his head cocked to one side. "Lasto, _Listen,_" he said.

They had both recognized his tone of voice. There could be only one reason for him to give up his teasing so quickly. The threat was noisy. And they could smell it on the wind.

"Orcs!" hissed Rúmil.

Already Haldir held his bow ready, a silver-feathered arrow notched against the string. Orophin's own bow lay balanced against the trunk of the closest tree. In one movement he had snatched it up and drawn his own arrow, all pretense of laughter gone.

"Rúmil," Haldir voice was very low, "Get your bow and warn the others. Orophin, come with me."

They separated, Rúmil dashing in the direction of the camp, and the others creeping out in search of the enemy.

X

Sárawen was splashing in the stream. How she longed for a bath! They were certainly near to Lorien by now. She stood knee-deep in the cool water, watching the bubbling currents swirl about her legs. Teensy blue and silver minnows swarmed about in clusters. She glared at them, kicking her foot. This was her stream. She'd found it first.

She kicked at the little fish again, sending them scattering.

"Sárawen!"

She turned, dropping a corner of her skirt in the process. To her surprise, Rúmil was rushing down the bank to her, his eyes dark. "We are under attack!" he called. "You must return to camp."

Attack! She abandoned her skirts. "Oh, dear!" she said, clasping her hands to her chest. Dimly, she realized Rúmil had caught hold of her arm and was dragging her out of the water and back up the bank. His grip on her arm was so tight it was almost painful, but she was too terrified to protest.

They had only just reached the edge of trees when a barbed, black-feathered arrow sliced into the closest birch with a sickening thud. Sárawen shrieked, clutching at Rúmil's tunic.

The next few moments passed so quickly that later she did not know quite what had happened. Rúmil had shoved her—hard—in the direction of the camp, whispering, "Go! Quickly!" in her ear. She fled, abandoning her wet skirts. She could hear more arrows whistling about behind her, and the tromping of many heavy feet. Her heart was thudding so hard that her chest ached, and her breathing was labored.

She saw the others and rushed forward, immediately being snatched by a sobbing Míriel.

"Oh, I-I'm so fr-frightened, Sárawen!" Míriel cried. "They said there are orcs out there. And I didn't know where you were; I was so worried!"

Sárawen nodded, still trying to catch her breath. The other elves were silent but their eyes were alert. Sárawen studied the Lady. Galadriel looked strangely composed. She was standing beside Celeborn, who held his own bow in one hand. Four or five of the wardens had remained with them, while the rest went out to find the attackers. Sárawen began to relax.

She glanced about the group, searching faces. Then she felt her fingertips go numb, and her heart leap into her throat.

Vanyamorë was not there.

X

Author's Note: This is not supposed to be a cliffhanger. It is merely the end of the chapter. I am already working on the next part, so it shouldn't be too long before it is posted. (I know this chapter is really short, and I'm sorry.) Thank you to all my reviewers. Love ya!

LovelyEvenstar


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